


The Monster

by anthropophobist



Series: The Monster Was The Best Friend I've Ever Had [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassination Attempt(s), Brainwashing, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky's POV, Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Gen, Hand-wavey medical procedures, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person Limited, Project Insight - Freeform, Protective Steve Rogers, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8164112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthropophobist/pseuds/anthropophobist
Summary: "The monster was the best friend I've ever had."- Mary Shelley, FrankensteinThe Winter Soldier has been tasked with the assassination of Captain Steve Rogers as a vital part of the preparations for Project Insight. He's been implanted with false memories of a life he used to have as James 'Bucky' Barnes, and must gain the captain's trust and have him let down his defenses, so the soldier can get close enough to execute him. But the longer the asset is around him, and the more Steve pushes Bucky to remember, the more doubt he gets about his mission and his handlers. When he gets the call to terminate, he finds he's struggling to complete the mission.





	1. Prologue: STRIKE Mission Debrief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short prologue to get things started, and frankly not up to par with my usual writing. Don't worry, big things are coming soon!

Brock Rumlow paces the room in front of three STRIKE squads and part of the Insight crew. The men and women, all in uniform, wait in relative silence for the debrief on their mission. It's the biggest, most public thing they've planned since the Red Skull. But they've grown since then. They're ready.

"First off, thank you for coming and also, for willing to stand against what you have been told is right, and instead fight for what is actually best for this world," Rumlow begins with almost ceremonious elegance. "It takes courage, so, thank you.

"Now, Project Insight's been delayed. Fury got suspicious and shut it down until he's certain it's safe. You and I both know that means he won't launch those carriers at all." Rumlow shifts from one foot to the other. "So, we need to take him out."

Surprised murmuring floods the room. To take out Fury is to take a huge risk. It's been attempted several times before but with no success. An actual demigod, no less, has tried and failed. But Rumlow continues talking like it's nothing.

"Now, Delta, you're in charge of taking out Fury. Security around the director is heavy, so the plan is to go undercover as MPD officers and take him out while he's on his way to rendezvous with agent Hill. Your best shot is when he's in his SUV. "Alpha, your goal is to make sure the helicarriers make it into the air, and lock onto their targets. If things get out beforehand, your job is to kill anyone who tries to stop the launch or damage the carriers. Once they're in the air, your part is done. The Insight crew on the carriers will take it from there, their mission hasn't changed.

"The Council's gonna need convincing to launch the carriers early, same as the rest of the SHIELD staff. If your colleagues have suspicions, lead 'em somewhere private and take 'em out. Pierce is taking care of the Council." He pauses, looking around the briefing room. "And finally, Captain Rogers."

A hush falls over the room. Rumlow sweeps his eyes over the STRIKE team again, breathes a second, and explains.

"Rogers is a known enemy to Hydra. If he catches wind of any of this, there's no way he's not gonna meddle. But-- just shooting at him won't be enough; Rogers has a reputation for being a hard man to kill. We've got a more complex scheme planned to take him out. "Rogers fights back. He'll fight anyone to do what he thinks is right, no exceptions. Still, the best way to get to him is through his friends. Romanoff is close with him, but she won't kill him, she'll only get suspicious. However," he says, barking out the last word and pausing a second. "We have a better option; Steve Rogers' childhood friend, Bucky Barnes."

Jack Rollins, sat all the way at the front of the room, begins to shake his head. "No way that's gonna work, Rumlow. The asset ain't even stable enough for regular undercover work half the time, what makes you think he's capable of dealing with Rogers?"

Rumlow shrugs. "He cracks sometimes, yeah, but he's done a whole lot of successful undercover missions over the years. Wipe him thoroughly beforehand and you can convince him of anything. Having a history with Rogers, he can get close enough to take him out when he least expects it. Besides, we got countless failsafes in place if things don't go as planned. We're good at contingencies."

"So how's that gonna work?" Says a woman from Delta Squad. "Tell him he just _happens_ to look like Steve Rogers' dead best friend and also just happens to match with his DNA? He's malleable, but he's intelligent. He'll figure it out" Her brown eyes are directly on Rumlow, but he stares right back. He starts to explain, his voice starting out somewhat unnervingly calm, but steadily becomes louder and more agitated.

"The asset is convinced he's a pick-and-choose mix of bodyparts with a little metal involved. He sees himself as Frankenstein's monster without even knowing what the hell a "Frankenstein" is. He trusts his handlers to tell him everything he needs to know. Point is, you tell him you gave him plastic fuckin' surgery to look like Barnes, he'll believe you. Tell him you'll alter Barnes' DNA records to match his, he'll believe you. Tell him you implanted fake goddamn memories in his head so he won't freak out if he remembers shit that ain't part of the mission, _he'll believe you._ He'll carry out the mission without even considering that he's the real Barnes."

The woman, Hendrix, is reluctantly silent. She smooths down her jacket and nods, breaking eye contact. Her finger catches on the patch over her left breast, a small, light blue triangle. Delta.

"Fury is headed out in an hour, I expect you to be right where I put you and your team."

"Yes, sir," comes her reluctant affirmation. Rumlow nods at her, and addresses the remaining team.

"Beta, your task is to assist the asset in his mission. You'll be briefed about the specifics later, and I'm dispatching the time and location for that to your comms now." As Rumlow works on a holographic screen to provide the squad with the necessary information, a minute of silence ensues. No one is willing to be the first to speak. It only lasts shortly. Rumlow waves his hand and the screens turn off.

"Alright, dismissed. Not a word about _anything_ in any place other than this briefing room," he announces, and plucks a USB drive from the computer, swiftly leaving the room. Team Delta immediately stands up and begins to check their comms for the specifics of their mission, leaving the room as a unit. Team Alpha discusses quietly about their own assignment. Several members from team Beta share looks with each other, others leave the room with their eyes glued to their comm screens.

Rollins sighs, rubbing his hands along his thighs and pushing himself up. He leaves the briefing room still shaking his head and mutters something about a "crazy fuckin' plan", just before he lets the door fall shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so so much to my bros Carolyn, Nina, Ava, and Sanne who tolerated my endless rambling about this story and helped me flesh out this idea!! Not to mention for being my personal hype men.
> 
> First two chapters will be added tomorrow (I hope!), but expect a week delay at least after that, I'm going on a week long holiday. Also expect a second (but different!!) version of this plot in Steve's POV sometime soon!


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Tomorrow" my ass I'm so sorry. Okay I needed to make some edits and it ended up taking longer than I thought it would with this busy fuckin trip but it's here and I'm still not satisfied! I still hope you enjoy ♡

Are you sure this is a good idea? What if he remembers?"

"We wiped him even more thoroughly than usual this time. If he remembers anything, he'll just assume it's an implanted memory unlocking; we told him they don't always surface right away. Besides, he's obedient as a well-trained dog. I don't doubt he'll succeed."

"All right, then. I trust your word. Has he been prepped?"

"Already done. I'm just going to go through his cover with him again."

The asset doesn't look up, but listens closely to the footsteps coming his way. He's sat rigid on a metal carrier, the same one he was brought in on after coming out of cryostasis. The way he's sitting, the ground is a little out of reach. His legs are hanging perfectly still.

"So," A voice says, directed at the asset. He looks up. The source of the voice has sandy blonde hair, tied back and tucked into her tac uniform. There's a white ß on the patch over her left breast, meaning she's Beta, part of the squad assigned to aid his mission. She looks over his face, and leaves her gaze on his eyes. "Who are you?"

The asset doesn't meet hers as he takes a breath, and begins to recite his cover persona in a monotone voice.

"I'm Bucky. My name is James Buchanan Barnes, I was born March 1917 in Brooklyn. I was drafted in the second World War, in the 107th infantry, and fell off a train while fighting Hydra in 1944. I was captured by them and they attempted to brainwash me. I remember most of my life, but the fall and the mind wipes have erased some of my earlier memories. I can use this excuse whenever Captain Rogers says something not included in my artificial memories."

The woman nods. Her eyes are deep-set and look displeased even as she smiles approvingly.

"And who are you to Steve?" She asks, lifting her chin.

"I'm his friend." That claim feels like a lie, more so than the rest, but the roughness of his disused voice covers up the crack in his façade enough so the woman does nothing but simply raise an eyebrow at him. "Bucky is Steve Rogers' best friend since childhood."

Distancing himself from the character seems to help distance him from the feeling, and it puts the woman more at ease. She leans back slightly and watches him.

"And who are you really?" The asset takes a breath to answer, but is cut off before he even starts. "You do not have to answer as your character."

That is an easy answer. One that requires no thought. "I'm an asset. The Winter Soldier. An assassin and spy, biomechanically engineered from scrap by Hydra. I shaped the century." His voice stays flat and entirely emotionless as he recites what has been drilled into him since he was first engaged.

"Very good. We'll drop you off near your target in two hours. Convince him to take you in, and report back within 24 hours. Keep in mind that you've been presumed dead for seventy years, and thought he must have died, too. You're as happy to see him as he is to see you. Copy off his emotions if you're at a loss." At this, the woman turns around and begins collecting the other members of the team. The asset is guided off the metal carrier with a tug on his upper arm, and obediently led into another room. He remains pliant as his handlers dress him for the mission.

* * *

 

It's 4:16 am, and the asset is dispatched two blocks from his destination. Following instructions, he quickly arrives at the target's location. He identifies the doorbell labeled "S. Rogers" and hesitates, noting the unpleasant knot forming in his abdomen. He ignores his body's cue and presses the button. He very faintly hears a buzzing sound from a floor up, and not even a beat later, the intercom crackles to life. Bucky looks into the small camera, angling his face down so his hair hides most of it, dimly lit by the light above the doorway.

For four long seconds, the intercom is silent. Then, a long breath, and a deep, staticky voice.

"Bucky?"

The asset doesn't know what to say to that. The voice stuns him for a long moment, which makes no sense to him. He then realises it could very well be possible he's had a previous encounter with the man; he wouldn't remember anyway. It occurs to him it would be wisest to answer the captain, so he falls into character. He lets his shoulders sag a little, and creases his brow into what he assumes is a hopeful expression.

"Steve."

"No, no, no. What is this," the voice demands after another long silence. There's a series of noises in the background and the intercom shuts off. The asset frowns, and buzzes the com again. No answer. Before he can buzz it again, however, the door swings open and he's faced with the man himself, eyes grim and determined.

"Prove it," is all he says.

The asset stays silent. He searches Rogers' face for any kind of hint, any clear expectation. The captain is waiting for a demonstration. Something to prove Bucky's authenticity. A childhood memory maybe, or a small fact left out of his files. A name, perhaps.

"Your mom's name was Sarah," he tries, with little success. It doesn't change the hard look on the captain's face, but his eyes momentarily flick to Bucky's shoulder instead of his face. It's not enough. The asset attempts a wry chuckle, and racks his decayed, altered mind for anything useful. A fact from before the serum, before the war. Something small yet secret, something--

"You used to wear newspapers in your shoes."

The words leave his mouth before he's even finished processing the memory that's flickering in his head. His handlers warned him not two hours ago that the artificial memories he was given might surface like a real recollection would, but the sheer vividness of the images startle him. Thankfully, it only benefits the mission, because the words soften the look on Rogers' face considerably. His jaw unclenches, his posture drops from its defensive hold, and his breathing returns to normal. The asset knows that Rogers is highly familiar with his own files, and that he knows which facts come from a piece of paper, and which are stored solely in the gray matter of only two brains on the planet.

One of them may not be the right brain, but that's not any of the asset's concern. He's just here to infiltrate, kill, and move on.

Steve looks him in the eye, searching, and the asset tries to furrow his brow into a tired, pleading look. It works.

"...Buck."

"Steve."

The captain looks at the shape in front of him, all hunched shoulders and hands in hoodie pockets. Long hair, stubble. The asset's seen the file on Bucky Barnes, and frankly, he looks only vaguely like the man in those photographs. Thankfully Rogers does seem to recognize his lost friend in the being he's faced with, and visibly caves. He steps aside to let him in, and leads him up the stairs. There's a moment's pause before he grabs his keys and opens the door to his apartment, but once inside, leads Bucky straight to the kitchen table. The asset notices a faint hint of blood in the air. Both men pretend it's not there.

Once they sit down, the tense, anticipatory silence between them becomes more and more prominent. Rogers watches the asset with a vaguely disoriented expression. The silence seems to stretch for several long minutes, when finally,

"I need answers."

The asset-- or Bucky, now-- nods solemnly. He picks at the material of his sleeve, and says,

"I know."

"I can't just blindly trust you're the real thing, either," he says. "I wish I could, Buck, but things have changed since Brooklyn. We need to run some tests, do a DNA comparison, make sure you don't have any trackers,"

Steve continues talking in an empathetic tone, but the asset stops listening. His mind begins to wander. He's aware there are several tracking devices in his body; he's reminded of the fact every time his behaviour is erratic. But he has never been told where exactly they're located for security reasons. His handlers don't want to risk him possibly going rogue and off the map. His right hand forms a fist with halted movement.

"...Bucky."

The asset, Bucky, focuses his eyes on his target again, frowning. "What?"

"You spaced out. I need you to come with me to run a few tests. Are you okay with that?" The captain's eyes are honest and soft. The asset nods, shrugging. He avoids the blond man's gaze.

"If it helps you sleep at night," he supplies blankly. Steve smiles, but it fades quickly.

"I need to know what happened, Buck," he says softly, delicately. As if any more force behind his words might have Bucky collapse. It has Bucky sighing.

"I'll tell you, just..." He takes a breath. "Not right now." pinching the bridge of his nose, he releases the remaining air from his lungs. He's about to open his eyes when he senses the captain go still. The cool metal of his hand twitches minutely against bone. Even in the dim light, it's visibly not flesh, and he knows Steve is looking straight at it.

"Bucky," the captain begins hesitantly. "What happened to your hand?"

The asset drops the hand in question, flexing it, and considers his options for a short moment. He stares his target in the face, watching the emotions show. Then, saying nothing as he leans forward in his chair, he begins to take off the hoodie. Underneath is simply a white tank top, hiding nothing of his artificial limb. He hangs the piece of clothing over the back rest of the chair, and places his arm on the table, in front of the captain. Rogers looks stunned. He immediately starts to reach out and touch it, but stops himself before he even gets close. He looks back at Bucky after a long, silent second.

"I lost it when I fell," Bucky explains. He stares at the shiny metal plates, reflecting the kitchen lights and warping them. It makes him wonder why he was assembled with a missing limb. It has to be inefficient to create such a heavy bionic alternative instead of just using a different body. He disregards the thought; it's not his place. "Zola found me and..." He sneers, like Barnes would. "Fixed me."

Steve tries to keep his eyes on the man in front of him, but they begin to water, and he looks away, running his index finger below his nose.

"I'm sorry," he says. He's still not looking at Bucky. "I should've gone after you. I should've known."

The asset knows he's supposed to respond reassuringly, but doesn't seem to be able to find the words. He settles for shaking his head softly, almost imperceptibly. It doesn't look like it makes Rogers feel any better. The asset doesn't care.

"We should, um." Barnes shifts as he tries to ignore the soft sniffle from across the table. "Probably head out. Run those tests."

The captain looks up at that, and sniffs, nods as if he's shaken from a dream. His chair scrapes softly across the floor as he gets up, but once standing, he pauses with his hand still on the back rest. His eyes are on Bucky as the dark-haired man stands up as well, but he's clearly in thought. The asset watches him think for a long moment. "What is it?" he asks.

"I can't just march you into S.H.I.E.L.D right now. I was told by someone important today not to trust anyone." Rogers shuffles his foot and stares into the living room of his apartment. "Those might just be his last words."

The asset is silent. The smell of blood suddenly makes more sense.

He feels conflicted. His instincts are telling him to keep Rogers from testing anything at all, to convince him to keep Bucky's return a secret, to maintain the captain's gullibility, but there's no way. It'll only make him suspicious.

"I need to make a call," the captain says suddenly, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He wanders into the living room as he begins to dial, leaving Bucky standing in the kitchen. The asset doesn't move, just listens as his target's voice recedes more the further he walks. In order to pass the time, he starts mentally reviewing the mission's progress and success rate. Rogers is falling for the Asset's portrayal without a doubt. The tests he wants to run are most likely an obligation out of protocol more than an actual reassurance to the man himself. The asset suddenly wishes for memories of previous undercover missions, so he has something to compare his experiences to, something more than a ragged sense of intuition to assess the situation.

"-ank you. You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. I know, Tony."

Rogers hangs up just as he enters the kitchen again, and stares at his phone, relieved. Barnes looks at him.

"It'll work out. I've got a friend of mine who's willing to help. His name is Tony Stark, Howard's son." Steve arches his voice on the last few words, the sentence coming out more as a question than an explanation. He eyes Bucky with anticipation, who nods. He's read several files on Howard Stark; The man was one of the lead scientists on Project Rebirth, and was closely affiliated with S.H.I.E.L.D's predecessor, the SSR. Bucky and Steve had worked closely with him during the war. A motorcyclist races by outside, and the harsh sound seems to vibrate in the asset's chest. He inexplicably smells burning gasoline. He decides to ignore it.

"-flying over; he'll be here in an hour."

The asset nods slowly, assuming he missed nothing. "We got some time to kill," he says in an attempt to break his own silence. Rogers nods, breathing deep.

"Want some coffee?"

 


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took a while. I have no excuse, I just neglect my stories a lot. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I certainly enjoyed writing it three months ago.

It's another 71 minutes of tense silences and short answers, accompanied by several coffee refills before Rogers' phone finally rings, signalling his friend has arrived at his doorstep. Steve gets up immediately and rushes down to open the door, revealing three people. All of them are casually dressed, and two of them carry metal briefcases most likely containing lab equipment. Steve shakes their hands, and grips the shoulder of one of them, an older, dark-haired man, Stark, thanking him earnestly.

"Cap, good to see you," Stark says, looking tired. "You'd better be glad traffic is light this time of night. Now, what is it you need me to ID that you can't just take to your day job?"

The asset shifts behind the captain, and Tony's gaze falls on him. An odd look crosses the man's face, and he eyes the asset with an indecipherable expression. He turns back to the captain with an urgent, alarmed look. The asset can only see the larger man shrug vaguely. Steve's face is turned away from him, so the exact response is lost.

The asset knows Stark wasn't studying his face like one would a stranger. As Howard Stark's son, There was a large chance he'd recognize Barnes. But it wasn't just a sense of recognition in his eyes. He seemed to be immediately analysing the asset's features, looking for something. Presumably to find something off about him, as if he doesn't believe it's really Barnes. Stark would be right in thinking that, but there should be no doubt in anyone's mind for his assignment to succeed.

Rogers says a few noncommital words to Tony, and nods to the two tense scientists who are decidedly not looking at anyone but each other. Tony shakes his head, says,

"This isn't over."

The exchange between Stark and Rogers stalled for a later time, the captain motions everyone in quietly, doing a quick take before he closes the door to see if anyone is watching outside. Barnes waits for him. The blond sees nothing out of the ordinary, and turns back to lead the small team up the stairs.

Once everyone is in the apartment, the two scientists begin to set up their gear. Much of it is extremely high-tech and compact, and while none of it takes up a lot of space, by the end of it, the entire surface of the kitchen table is occupied. As they set up, Stark pulls the captain aside into the dark living room.

"You didn't think to warn me you found James freaking Barnes on your doorstep?" hisses the older man. His voice is low, but fiery enough to be audible from a distance. "You said you needed an urgent DNA comparison, I thought it was some bad guy side-project, not whatever is going on here. What the hell happened, Rogers?"

The asset watches Steve fumble for his words. True to character, the first comprehensible thing to come out of his mouth is "I'm sorry".

"I can't trust S.H.I.E.L.D right now, Tony," he admits. "They've been compromised. They bugged me." Tony goes silent, and leans in.

"Compromised? How?"

"Fury was here tonight. He told me there were 'ears everywhere'," Rogers lowers his voice further, and the asset can't make out the words anymore. All he sees is the silhouette of the captain nod to a darkened corner of his living room. The bewildered expression on Stark's face, lit only by the lights in the adjacent room, changes into something more closely resembling shock, and the man responds with controlled outrage, only just loud enough for the asset to hear.

"And no one told me about this? Is he still even breathing?"

"I'm still waiting on a call," Steve says.

"My dad founded S.H.I.E.L.D., I was one of the first to know about the Avengers Initiative. I shouldn't be this low on the waiting list, for fuck's sake." Whilst his tone is angry, Stark's voice wavers tellingly.

Unsurprisingly, the captain's voice is steadier, more calm. "People have tried going after Fury before, Tony. They're probably waiting to let you know 'til there's news on whether or not he survived."

Tony sighs at that, and his eyes meet the asset's. His expression shifts, and he turns himself away from the assassin. In the dark of the living room, the asset can no longer see either of their expressions.

"You sure about this?" Tony says, leaning in closer to the blond man. Steve ducks his head and lets out a small breath. He looks up at stark again and nods. Bucky watches them wordlessly.

Stark nods at that and turns on his heel. "Alright, let's get started," he announces, making his way over to the two. He motions Bucky over, waves his hand for the longer haired man to sit. He does, resting his arms on the small space still available on the table.

"So, Barnes, I'll get my guys to do a quick DNA comparison first. Then a few blood tests, give you a couple questions," he trails off as his gaze falls on the exposed glint of metal of Bucky's hand on the table. "Get some tech guys down here to check out your," He hesitates briefly. "Skywalker tech, it'll be a party."

Steve glances at Tony with a mild look of disapproval, but says nothing. He nods at Bucky, lifting a corner of his mouth in a weak attempt at a smile.

\---

While being questioned on his personal history, several blood samples and digital X-rays are taken. The captain looks as if he's about to get physically sick upon seeing the latter displayed on the laptop screen. There's dozens of bone fractures- many of which have healed fine, but several turned out all wrong; injuries in the midst of an assignment that he couldn't afford to tend to.

But that's not what's causing the captain to turn almost ghastly pale. It's the metal.

Copious amounts of metal are fused with his scarred flesh, and not just around his arm. His entire ribcage seems to be made of metal to some extent, not to mention his spine. Parts of his skeleton have been replaced entirely with metal as either a counterweight to the heaviness of the arm, or just to support it. Seeing the X-rays on the screen light up in such an unnatural way seems to have a large emotional impact on Rogers. His normally broad and tall posture is now hunched over and his eyes are decidedly anywhere but on the screens. He's trying, again, to make eye contact and this time, Bucky obliges and meets his gaze blankly. It's only brief, but the tortured, pitying look on Steve's face twists something inside of him. His right arm twitches as an unidentified feeling compels him to lift it. He hasn't gotten the call to terminate yet, so he ignores the reflex. Hell, he hasn't been able to get a hold of his handlers at all yet. He's supposed to report back every 24 hours. He hopes Rogers missed a bug or two when he combed the apartment.

The scientist who had been preoccupied with his samples and images finally takes a seat next to the asset. "Can I take a look at your arm, James?" he asks softly, as if speaking to a frightened child. The asset nods numbly, and pulls the hoodie off his arm, extending it and resting it, palm up, on the very edge of the table. The guy pulls up a chair and begins to study the prosthetic. He makes a vague, awed sound, and softly prompts Bucky to lift the arm so he can study the plates in more detail.

"Where did you get this? Not even Stark tech is this advanced," he says, marvelling at the complexity, before shooting a guilty look at Tony, who has been watching the entire thing from afar.

The asset hesitates. He was explicitly told to keep Hydra's continued existence a secret, but has no choice but to use their interference to explain Barnes' survival. Thankfully, his handlers have already fabricated a complete cover story to match those criteria. His voice stays flat as he begins to speak.

"I lost my arm when I fell off the train in the Alps, in 1944," he says, shooting a quick glance at Steve. The man says nothing, just nods for him to continue and averts his eyes. "Hydra found me, and tried to turn me into a weapon, so they made me this arm. I don't know what it's made of or exactly how strong it is, but I know it makes me dangerous."

The captain takes a step closer. "We took care of Hydra before the war was done."

Bucky shrugs.

"I don't know what happened in between that and now, but the brainwashing, or whatever it was they tried on me, it didn't work, so they put me on ice. Just in case I'd ever be useful to them again. The cryo chamber I was kept in must've stopped working, because I woke up in an abandoned building in Jersey."

That was the most the asset had talked since his mission started. He doesn't know if he's ever talked that much in his entire functioning life.

The captain frowns. "Jersey? As far as we're aware, Hydra has only ever been stationed in Germany."

"I don't know either, but it looked abandoned for something like 40 years." The asset shifts on the ill-padded bench, and looks up at Steve.

"Zola," Stark finally pipes up from a corner of the kitchen, where he's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Steve's brow furrows. "He was captured and jailed, wasn't he?"

"He was, but the SSR decided to recruit him for his skills in the late 40's. Project Paperclip or something like that. Think maybe he ran his own agenda while parading around SHIELD?" Tony pushes himself away from the wall and puts his hands in his pockets. He starts pacing, eyes still on Rogers.

The captain shakes his head, doubtful. "You're saying he rebuilt HYDRA without anyone catching on? For 30 years? Seems unlikely."

"Have you got a better explanation?" Stark asks, coming to a stand next to Steve. The blond turns and looks Tony in the eye, sighs.

"I'm working on it."

Stark is about to say something more, but one of the laptops beeps and the other scientist in front of it raises her hand and waves a few fingers in an attempt to gain their attention.

"The blood samples check out."

The captain tries not to let on, but it's clear how much tension leaves his body. It's as if his entire posture changes minutely. He looks at Bucky and smiles. The asset thinks he smiles back. It feels ingenuine, but it's none of his concern; he's just glad HYDRA is in the computer systems so Barnes' DNA sequence could be edited to match his own. A certain weight seems to dissolve in his stomach as the words are spoken, knowing that the first phase is done, and he can focus solely on gaining his target's trust.

"There's something," The scientist begins, scratching at a spot below her lip. "Off about it, though."

Steve immediately snaps his gaze to her. "Off? What does that mean?"

The scientist waves him over, and the man peers over her shoulder, closer at the screen. The two rows of bars showing on it are almost exactly the same. "Part of his DNA have changed. It's almost identical to what happened to yours, after.."

"After what?"

"After the serum," she finishes, a certain sense of wonder in her voice.

The captain stills. He moves to look over her shoulder at the screens as the young woman accesses Stark files and brings up his genetic sequence per comparison.

"See here?" She says, pointing out a specific set of lines on both his and the asset's. "They match yours exactly."

"The serum's probably what helped him survive the fall in the first place," the captain ponders. "Zola experimented on him when his whole unit was captured in '44. He must've gotten some version of my serum."

"Could be."

The asset stops listening as the two continue to debate his genetic code. He quickly glances at Stark, the dark-haired man seeming familiar beyond a picture in a file. He feels as if he has made a mistake.

His DNA checks out, his story checks out, everyone believes James Barnes is truly back from the dead. This is what he thinks and repeats in his head as he begins shaking minutely. The scientist taking several more blood samples pretends not to notice, just steadies Bucky's right arm with a slightly tighter grip. It hadn't occurred to the asset previously, just how much tension he was under, but now that the first phase is over, it suddenly hits him. Which in itself confuses him to no end. Having no proper recollection of previous undercover missions, he isn't sure if he's supposed to get emotionally involved at all. He makes a mental note to inquire about it the next time he contacts his handlers.

It feels wrong to have emotions that are more than a passing experience. The asset doesn't exist as a man, not really. He's a puzzle of human and machine, a pick-and-choose mix of parts. He is simply an illusion of a man, and the illusion will last only until Steven Grant Rogers is dead.

His train of thought is disrupted once again by an uncomfortable feeling, as if a hand has reached into his stomach and is squeezing tight. He has no idea which part of of the story irks him more, and promptly decides it's none of the aforementioned. He is a machine in the temporary shape of James Buchanan Barnes, and he leads an emotionless, non-existent existence. From his peripheral vision, the captain shifts.

The man taking his blood samples pats his arm and tapes a small cotton wad over the puncture. "That's it for now, James. You're cleared," he says. Bucky nods and gets up slowly, limbs stiff.

Steve is at his side in an instant, apparently done with the specifics of Barnes' DNA. He looks as though he wants to reach out and touch his long-lost friend, but won't allow himself. This seems like the perfect moment to connect more with the captain, so the asset decides to take it upon himself to close the distance. He tugs the blond man into an awkward hug, the motions of it unfamiliar but comforting in purpose. Steve brings his arms up to Bucky's waist and presses warm hands over his back. Bucky subconsciously fists his right hand in the material Steve's shirt. A shallow breath into his shoulder is followed by a near-silent confession:

"I never thought I'd see you again."

The asset feels the metal of his spine warm at the captain's touch, and unidentified emotion floods through his mind, rusting shut the machinery in his cut-and-paste brain. His right hand tightens in Steve's shirt and his left drops from the captain's shoulder to hang by his side. Somehow it feels inappropriate to use the artificial limb in this situation.

That thought reminds him of the X-rays, and triggers something wild. Suddenly, it feels as though his body is violently rejecting the metal inside of it, an overwhelming, sickening sense of dysphoria, filling his mouth with saliva. The arm, with its hydraulics snaking underneath his left pectoral, his spine, constantly lowering his body temperature, the plated ribs extending from it, none of it is his and it needs to go.

His body compromises the only way it can.

It empties the stomach.

Bucky begins to shiver. He retches and attempts to break free from the embrace, but it's too late. He gags and suddenly, the meager contents of his stomach are on the floor, and all down the captain's shirt. They break apart immediately. Bucky takes several steps back and stumbles, collapsing onto his knees. He starts to cough in a frenzy. His thoughts scattered and tangled, and he briefly wonders if he can cough the unnatural materials out of his body, but loses his fevered train of thought as he begins to choke on his own spit and bile. The female scientist is rushing forward already, but Steve is holding her back, murmuring something he can't hear over his own gasps and throbbing heartbeat.

The captain is squatting next to him all of a sudden. Steve places a hand on Bucky's back and another on his sternum, ignoring the thick stench of vomit and his soaked left shoulder.

"Breathe, Buck, easy," he tells him in a low voice, and the asset complies. Commands, he can follow, so he takes several heaving breaths, each one less difficult than the last. Once his brain is capable of processing things beyond panic, he thinks of the captain's asthma before the serum, how it used to be Barnes helping him breathe through it. A brief flash of an autumn evening where Steve had a particularly bad attack brought on by a nasty cold. Barnes had sat with him in the exact position they're in now, only reversed. He chuckles weakly, holding onto the mental images. He begins to wonder why his handlers gave him this particular memory, one so irrelevant to the mission, yet so vivid.

"Just like old times," he rasps, trying to laugh in spite of everything. His throat is raw from the coughing fit. Steve begins to chuckle, too, and it's a relief.

"Well," the captain smiles, "A lot's changed." He lets his hand slip off his friend's sternum and stands back up. The woman, who was waiting off to the side takes that as her cue and begins to wipe down the floor. Steve regards his own soiled shirt and grimaces.

"I'm gonna go change," he says to Bucky, and directs his gaze to the male scientist who is still watching the scene in a sense of shock on the other end of the room. "Send him up when he's ready, I'll be in the common room." The guy looks up with a small jerk, snapping out of his daze. He nods and hums a confirmation, still focused on the scene in front of him; A dark, long-haired mess sat on the floor, its shaking only now subsiding slowly, accompanied by a national hero who seems as much a mess as his friend. His employer in the corner of the room, not doing much of anything. Rogers nods at the occupants of the room, shoots an unidentifiable glance at Barnes, and leaves for the bedroom. His phone begins to ring, and answers just as he shuts the door.

The asset watches him go, and breathes slowly in and out. He adjusts his position on the floor, now sitting with his legs to the side instead of on his knees. He's still processing what happened, but the apprehensive silence in the kitchen is steadily becoming more unbearable. He needs to leave.

"You, uh," he starts, his voice still rough, "said I was done?"

The scientist who's now wringing out a rag into the sink turns her head, and gives breaks a questioning hum, then nods, standing up.

"Uh-- yeah. You can head to the living room if you'd like. Wait for your friend."

The asset nods, but remains on the floor. He accepts the glass of water handed to him and downs it all, then tries to pull himself together enough to push himself off the ground. From the corner of his eye, he sees the three strangers collect their things, and sees Stark leave a thumb drive on the kitchen counter. The man looks at his employees.

"I made you sign those NDA's, right?"


End file.
